


Sugar We're Going Down Swinging

by Pluppelina



Series: I Need Some Fine Wine And You Need To Be Nicer [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Jim is being casually suicidal but it's not the focus of the story, Jim really wants to get laid, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, and in the end Sebastian doesn't seem to mind, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluppelina/pseuds/Pluppelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jim decides it's time they make love, and Sebastian tries his damnedest to not come kicking and screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar We're Going Down Swinging

“Do you know that I’m praying that one day it’ll come back to bite me in the arse?” Jim mumbles. He’s high, or he wouldn’t be this sincere, and Sebastian is more or less carrying him only not because if Jim’s feet leave the ground he’ll have Seb neutered.

“I just wish… Someone would… Have killed me back. Just once…”

Of course Sebastian knows this. He’s heard it all before, so many times over, and he figured it out even before Jim told him. Sebastian supposes that is what happens to men like Jim Moriarty - when there isn’t any other person like them anywhere, they have to become their own greatest enemy just to keep things interesting. They carry on silently.

“Hey... Hey Seb...” Jim says, uncharacteristically softly, “if you ever... ever...”

He trails off again, eyes crossing as he turns worryingly pale, and Sebastian turns them 90 degrees to the right and leans forward just in time to watch Jim throw up into some shrubbery. He considers averting his eyes but decides quickly that making sure Jim doesn’t choke on something takes priority over protecting his dignity at this point.

Jim spends some five minutes throwing up in the bush, ridiculously small amounts of ridiculously pink fluids at a time. After that, he seems mostly fine, and gives Sebastian a look that he can’t quite deduce the meaning of.

“I wanna make love to you,” Jim says, after some consideration. Sebastian frowns. That is the first time Jim has admitted that outright, and Sebastian had started hoping he never would.

“I’m straight,” Sebastian explains and hopes that that will be the end of that. Jim shakes his head, which turns into a full-bodied wobble, and just as he’s about to say something he seems to swallow it back down again. Then, it comes back up. At least, Sebastian thinks, this time, it was briefer. In a manner of seconds, Jim has straightened up again, and he says, “You’re mine.”

“Jim...” Sebastian begins, because really, this is taking it too far - he can’t possibly - but Jim cuts him off.

“No,” he insists. “You’re mine, and unless you’d like your life long employment to end now, we’re going to make love.”

And Sebastian, being the soldier he is, simply decides to soldier on. 

*

When they got home that night, Jim was too fucked up to get it up, and by morning he had forgotten all about it. Still, it made Sebastian start to think. Since Jim made the suggestion the idea has clearly crossed his mind, and it seems very unlikely that he’ll never mention it again, and when Jim wants something, Jim gets it. Sebastian thinks that, at this point, he might be the only exception to that rule. On the other hand, he’s unsure of which is strongest - Jim’s libido, or Jim’s need for Sebastian to continue running his life the way he has up until now done. He weighs the idea of sleeping with Jim against the idea of dying and finds the former preferable, if it comes to that, so he tries to prepare himself for it mentally. He does that by picturing worst-case scenarios. He thinks of being laid down, told not to struggle, pushed into brutally - really, it’s got to hurt - and left to bleed out in some dank basement room.

That isn’t what happens.

The only thing fantasy and reality have in common is that Sebastian gets no warning before it happens. It’s almost two weeks later and they’re planning an operation, going through where to get the explosives, which employees to bribe and so on, when Sebastian very suddenly feels his blood start to rush towards his groin. It’s strange, sure, but he decides not to mind it.

“So, I’ll call Johnson,” he says. Jim says nothing. The weird feeling doesn’t go away; it becomes stronger. Frowning, Sebastian adjusts his erection into a more comfortable position, and looks at the map on the table. Jim is no longer drawing on it, and, looking up to meet Jim’s eye, Sebastian suddenly knows. His heart sinks in his chest as his pulse rises with horror. This is it, and it’s already nothing like he imagined it. All his preparation has been for nothing; he’s completely out of his debt.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Jim says, smirking. He doesn’t even make an excuse.

Sebastian already knows, and he’s halfway off in panic already - but only halfway, he notices, that’s strange - and he goes with Jim anyway, because he knows he has to and because he’s told himself that he will. He sits down on the bed when Jim tells him to, and when Jim wrestles him down he goes with a minimum of struggling, all the while tensing his jaw. It takes so much of his self-control to let this happen, and he’s not sure if he can keep it up through it all, if he won’t knock Jim out when he-- when he-- Then, their hips brush together and god, Sebastian loses touch with reality completely for a moment. A moment is all it takes.

When he flicks back, his hands are tied up above his head and he can’t move them anymore. He can’t move his hands; he can’t defend himself. He couldn’t stop this even if he tried. Whatever happens next, it won’t be his fault, or his responsibility, because he’s been rendered completely unable to stop it, and he’s achingly hard now. The bonds mean he can’t hurt Jim even if he tries and the notion helps him relax so much he considers whether he actually loves this man after all, just a little bit. Then his trousers come off, and his pants, and he’s left naked from the waist down and he thinks, oh, this is it. He’s glad he’s been bound again, not because he can’t fight Jim off, but because if hadn’t been tied up he would most likely be reaching down to touch himself right now, but he can’t, so he doesn’t, so he won’t ever have to think about this as something that he took any smallest initiative for. If he doesn’t like it he won’t be able to stop it, which means Jim won’t have any reason to blame him, and if he does like it he won’t be able to do anything about that either, which means he won’t have any reason to blame himself. All he can do is lie back and try to keep breathing; it’s a foolproof plan.

Jim reaches away and comes back holding a condom. A condom. Sebastian hadn’t thought - the idea had never crossed his mind - that there were condoms involved in gay sex. No one to get pregnant, after all. Then he thinks of how slippery they are, of the lube on them, and he feels grateful again, and he’s probably the first rape-victim ever to feel this very happy with his rapist.

Jim isn’t in his suit; Jim is in his pants and t-shirt and unshaved, which isn’t at all unusual for their meetings, so there isn’t a lot of clothes for him to take off. In a manner of moments, Jim is completely naked on top of him, and that feels strange. What is he undressing for? 

Sebastian only thinks about that for a moment before Jim opens the condom, which takes priority. He can feel himself tensing up again, god, this is bad, not good anymore, no, really, despite everything so not good, and Jim’s hands are coming closer to him, what’s he even doing, and then - then, Sebastian is wearing the condom. His eyes go wide with surprise and he blinks, turning them onto Jim to see if his face holds some kind of clue about this. He hadn’t even been conscious that he was avoiding eye contact until just now.

Jim is smiling gently. “No point in making this harder than it has to be,” he says as he straddles Sebastian, guides him into his own very slick and very warm opening. The moment Sebastian realises where this is going, all the doubts and tension leaks from his body, and Jim proceeds to ride him so slowly and sweetly Sebastian almost wants to cry.

*

Afterwards Jim unties his hands and cuddles him, and Sebastian just lies there. They both came, and Sebastian can’t stop thinking about it. They both came. He’s made love to Jim Moriarty, and he liked it. There is no doubt he was drugged, drugged and bound, but he actually came inside of another man. He supposes that they’re an actual couple, now. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises that they’ve been a couple for ages already. He wonders why he never understood that before. Jim is falling slowly asleep on top of his chest and this is all familiar territory; they’ve been here and done this before, although Sebastian has never done it with a raging erection. Jim must’ve drugged him properly.

He wonders if he’s supposed to be having some sort of identity crisis over how he’s gay, now. He doesn’t think he will. He has after all been in a committed, monogamous relationship with another man for close to six months, now, ever since he moved in. Or maybe going on nine months, since Sebastian had Jim’s tattoo made? Having such a late crisis would do nothing but a fuck-load of harm, he’s sure. 

He still has to consider that their relationship has suddenly and against his will taken this sexual turn. That he had in the end enjoyed himself doesn’t change the facts and Sebastian supposes that he has just been raped, but it was Jim, and Jim was so gentle. He knows Jim better than he’s ever known anyone, and he has the feeling that if Jim wants this to happen on a regular basis he will find a way to make Sebastian want it too. The question is really rather whether Jim will want this on a regular basis. As far as Sebastian knows, Jim hasn’t had a single shag since they moved in together, but that could be because Jim has been hiding it well, or he could’ve remained celibate for reasons not under his control. Sebastian wonders with a kind of exasperation for just how long Jim has been planning this, and then, with a sense of genuine confusion, why he even waited this long to fulfill his plans. 

Either way, as far as Sebastian can tell, this has been a pretty good thing all-round. Jim sleeping the first night of natural sleep he’s had in two weeks on his chest, and besides, Sebastian feels pretty good, too. If he were to momentarily pretend he had just woken up with no recollection at all of the last, say, 24 hours, he wouldn’t think he’d just been in any kind of bad situation. His body doesn’t hurt, he doesn’t feel tense, he doesn’t hate Jim, and he doesn’t feel violated the way he’d done that time he’d gotten a text that told him that he was going to get a tattoo of Jim’s choice.

Perhaps that’s because this came on so slowly. The tattoo told him that Jim owned his body and since then he’s grown to accept the fact, and that it doesn’t mean he has in any way lost his own ownership of it. Hell, he’s still got that tattoo, but this isn’t going to leave anything permanent in or on him at all, and it wasn’t even bad. No. He can live with this. He can actually live with this.

He goes to sleep without any trouble as soon as he’s come to that conclusion, curled up gently around Jim as if he were something Sebastian wanted to protect with his life.


End file.
